Today was the culmination of what I come on these trips for. St. Francis hit me right between the eyes—and a hundred feet above my head. He had to clean me out first. I fasted—just water and juices—to get rid of this sore throat. (I’ve heard that humans are the only animals that eat when they’re sick.) It was a cleaning out of some kind of worldly karma that was in there attaching me to the denser end of the God-spectrum. Earlier I wrote about voluntary vs. involuntary Alzheimer’s. This was involuntary asceticism.
Whatever works is whatever works. Whatever inspires or forces or cajoles me into letting go is whatever is going to happen, so I might as well relax and enjoy it. God is Supply in the moment. The Traveler is the truck or train or plane that the Supply comes in on. Then when you’re stuffed with blessings or pain or food or whatever until you can’t stand it, the explosion happens—or you just let go and float up. The preparation is always the same: exactly what I need in the moment, which is always different. And if I follow it I’m rewarded with bliss and peace that are indescribable, the world feels like it’s a hundred miles away and along with it every form of suffering. I guess there’s something to be said for this asceticism thing, although like everything else in this world, sacrifice of the lower levels is only half of a whole Spirit. Sometimes it’s necessary, as it was in St. Francis’ time, and apparently in this moment for me.
We went to mass at the Basilica of St. Francis, and then I rested and listened to a J-R seminar, zonked out, and returned to my body in time for a visit to San Damiano, the place where God said to Francis, “Repair my church”—and he did, both literally and figuratively. It later became an active center for the ultimate Girlfriend, St. Clare. Something happened there—either an energy was placed there, or Clare was the real force behind the Franciscan movement, or something. Who cares what the cause is? Something always seems to happen to me at San Damiano.
I think that what St. Francis really repaired was the heart of humanity. Francis/Clare is/are all over this mountainside. I don’t feel it as much in the touristy parts of town, so I had to fast a bit to detach from my inner tourist that vibrates with all the other tourists and gets distracted. Then I could feel Francis everywhere.
At San Damiano we were treated to a talk by a funny and earthy Irish monk with an unpronounceable name who left his law practice to practice God in Assisi. He came there at first as a tourist and got hit by the energy. He asked for a sabbatical from his law job to spend more time with the Franciscans, not expecting to be granted the sabbatical or even understood. And to his surprise his boss said that living with the Franciscans was something he himself had always wanted to do. The unplanned perfectly supplied by the unexpected. The Traveler meets the tourist and takes him where he thinks he wants to go, to what’s already there.
Then Leigh Taylor-Young Morton told us more about the history of St. Clare and her spiritual work. She seemed to know as much about the history of the place as the monk. More unanticipated abundance.
Even the hall where we had this meeting with the monk was unexpectedly supplied in the moment, when all our attempted plans and preparations to find a space to meet in the small and usually crowded San Damiano were thrown up in the air, and John just decided to wing it and take us there. It turned out there just happened to be an empty church area with pews for us all to fit comfortably.
I could write a book about just this one day. So many twists and turns and revelations of Spirit. Our Irish monk at San Damiano started off by telling us boilerplate stories about St. Francis which were beautiful and inspiring, but Russell Bishop, co-creator of Insight Seminars, took things to the next level by asking him about his own personal spiritual journey. The monk really came alive, telling us the story about how he got to Assisi and joined the Franciscans. It was a simple application of J-R’s teachings by Russell that opened up the whole presentation: talk from the heart about your personal experience. Such basic keys that open up universes.
The rest of the day is a blur. After we got back from San Damiano there was sharing with John for an hour or two that was a further basking in the energy that had come in at San Damiano, and through some kind of miracle I was able to continue to take photos while being drenched in this profound peace. Luckily I’ve gotten so accustomed to doing photos in these energetic downpours that it’s become automatic. I just put my body into auto-photo mode while my spirit soars. Then as if that wasn’t enough there was a two hour ministers meeting connecting us with the rest of the world on zoom.
The day is ending with packing for an early departure to Rome tomorrow and I have to get back into the body enough to use all my strength to push and pull and stuff and zip my suitcase and the Girlfriend’s suitcase, which have expanded from temptations of tourism. Typical Traveler action. The mundane meets the mystical. Just when you think you’ve arrived it’s time to leave. Whatever.
I have to tell you one more thing: The monk told us a story of how St. Francis was with his gang walking through a marketplace. Francis walked silently, smiling and beaming love at everyone. One of his gang asked, “Aren’t you going to preach the gospel?” Francis said, “I just did.” Enough said.
